


Netherfield Nearness

by LaLimonata



Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Bingley and Jane are so pure, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Happy Ending, Mr Collins is annoying, Wickham is a knave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23476204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLimonata/pseuds/LaLimonata
Summary: Elizabeth and Mr Darcy are caught in a compromising position. Their romance blossoms now that they are pushed together.Saturday updates
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley, Mary Bennet/William Collins, Mr. Bennet/Mrs. Bennet (Pride and Prejudice)
Comments: 105
Kudos: 628





	1. A COMPROMISING POSITION

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline has changed a bit. Jane becomes ill after Wickham and Mr Collins are introduced.
> 
> Hope you like :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a tiny lemony scene I forgot about!

Elizabeth found herself quite lost in the grand house. After all she had never previously visited Netherfield. The footman’s information that “Mr Bingley is in the drawing room” was useful but entirely unhelpful. By the time she had turned around the servant had disappeared – undoubtedly gone through one of the many secret doors that more genteel homes held for the help. 

Uneasy and unwilling to spend an evening with the ladies and perhaps a few of the gentleman, she spun on her heel. At last, she saw an ajar door and she quickened her pace only to be disoriented. The billiards table and its single player were not what she had expected to find.

“Miss Bennet,” he said, bowing to her.

Flustered at finding the object of her dislike quite so near, she reddened.

“Mr Darcy,” she replied, swallowing, before turning to leave.

“Miss Bennet, shall I escort you to the drawing room?”

“Why – I – yes.”

She watched as he put on his jacket – something about his arms exposed in a mere shirt and waist coat felt improper – and accepted his arm as he took her to join the rest of the party.  
“Mr Darcy!” she protested as he lifted her onto the billiards table.

“This is highly inappropriate, Sir,” she gasped out as he peppered kisses along her décolletage. He kissed her soundly, pressing his body against hers before stepping back.

“Do you wish me to stop?”

She pulled him down into a fierce kiss, reaching for the buttons on his shirt –

Fitzwilliam woke up groaning again. Her bedroom was just a few doors down from him. Ever since that first evening with her on his arm he had had the same dreams about defiling her as though he were a cad – some George Wickham. Disgusted with himself, he cleaned up.

At the same time, he longed for her conversation; their evening disputes were the most fun he had had since his father’s death. And when she got fired up her eyes sparkled, and he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

The prior evening Miss Bingley had invited him to join them for a turn about the room, he knew standing would give himself away. Her simple beauty outshone the other lady’s “elegance”. Elizabeth had no need for the frills and fripperies other women adorned themselves with, in his mind.

****  
Elizabeth left her rooms later than perhaps she should have, but the week without her mother and sisters was coming to an end. Jane was finally better, and her sister was grateful for that. Though, she did not want Lydia’s inane giggling nor crave Mrs Bennett’s or Mr Collin’s conversation and she had enjoyed respite from some of her own relations, she was not sure she could spend another night in the company of Mr Bingley’s.

Sighing, she added the last pin to her hair and realising she could stall no longer, she departed the room. At least she would have one last night of freedom before they left for home in the morning.

Reluctantly, she descended on the stairs, feeling the wood of the banister. It gave her a sense of a calm. She exhaled heavily as she reached the bottom. She knew the group would be gathered in the drawing room and she could no longer pretend to be ignorant of its whereabouts.

As was his wont, Mr Darcy would be in the billiards room. The door was nearly always ajar. Tonight, it was not.

Glancing at the large clock in the hallway she realised she had more time than she thought. She gently pushed the door to the room open; it was empty. Loud exclamations and praises of their host by her mother and cousin drifted through the hallway and made her wince.

She stepped in, closing the door behind her. Billiards was an unfamiliar game to her. Her fingers danced across the felt as she tried to recall what she had seen of Mr Darcy playing. Her mind’s eye conjured up his arms clothed only by a thin shirt. Blushing, she shook her head.

“Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said, surprised to see her. The billiards room was where he calmed his nerves, fortifying himself before a social evening. She jumped at the sound of his voice and he noticed the blush on her face spread down her neck. He cleared his throat and bowed.

“Mr Darcy, I confess I was curious about the game. We do not keep a table or a room – my father is not the sporting kind.”

She curtsied. His silence unnerved her, and she bit her lip. She continued, “I did not mean to intrude, Sir and will join the party.”

A look of resignation crossed her countenance and she did not move. Unexpectedly her companion chuckled. He had been studying her face.

“You are reluctant to join them also?” he said.

“I- yes,” she replied, bewildered.

“Stay,” he commanded, “I can teach you to play – that is if you wish –”

She interrupted him with a slight smile.

“I would like that very much.”

She averted her gaze as he took off his restrictive jacket. His waistcoat must be made from very fine silk; if she were on the other side of the table, she might have reached out to feel the deep green embroidery. She took the cue stick proffered to her instead.

“The aim of the game,” he began, “is to reach the agreed number of points. Points can be awarded in three ways: cannoning, winning hazard and losing hazard. But the first thing to teach you is how to hit the balls.”

He handed her a smooth white ball with a yellow ball. It had a nice weight to it.

“Watch me.” He placed a red ball on the spot and another white ball on the other end. He leaned over the table, so his torso was almost parallel to it. The way he was positioned showed off his back to great advantage – Elizabeth failed to pay attention to any of his movements. She heard the clack of balls hitting each other and started guiltily. He called her over for her own turn, placing the ball for her.

Unfortunately, she could not understand where to put her hands on the cue and how to then use this long stick effectively to hit her ball. Patiently, Mr Darcy demonstrated for her again and she attempted to copy him. Silently, he studied her position, a frown marring his features. He grabbed the hand resting on the table and attempted to move her fingers.

“It is difficult to instruct you without being in this position myself or repositioning you,” he mused, still staring. Without thinking he reached both his hands to hers as if he himself was playing. Gently, he moved them into a far more satisfactory position and smiled. 

Elizabeth was far less composed; Mr Darcy was pressing her into the table and his body heat was beginning to affect her. Blushing, she prepared to speak when the door swung open to reveal her cousin and Mr Bingley.

“Darcy, there you are!” he said cheerily, his voice faltering as he absorbed the scene before him, “We were beginning to worry.”

“Shame on you Cousin Elizabeth. I am deeply ashamed at finding you in this way. I must inform your father; this is grave news indeed,” Mr Collins said, his voice booming in the spacious corridor. As he stood in the doorway clucking at her, Elizabeth’s anger grew. She was not the one who had trapped her in such a compromising position.

Darcy, as I suddenly aware that Elizabeth was under him, felt his breeches tighten and jumped back as though he had been burnt.

“Miss Bennet,” he said in a strangled voice, before storming out past Mr Collins. Elizabeth straightened to her most haughty. She softened as Mr Bingley approached, asking in low tones if she was quite alright and if she had been imposed on in any way. Mr Collins began to extol the virtues of chastity and as she replied to her concerned friend that she was fine, her cousin began to list her faults. When Mr Darcy returned to the room with her father, her dear cousin was questioning her presence in the room.

“A woman,” he went on, “should be wary of her fondness for masculine pursuits. Excessive walking, reading and -”

But here he was interrupted by Mr Bennet’s demand to speak to Darcy and Elizabeth alone on family business. Mr Bingley flashed the couple an anxious smile.

“Indeed, this is a deeply, private matter for family only,” the parson began again as though he had not finished speaking at all. Mr Bennet, who was in no mood for the nonsense Mr Collins spewed forth, simply closed the door with Collins on the other side of it. Once he heard Mr Collins interrupted – for he was still speaking – and entreated to return to the sitting room by Bingley, the old man turned to face the young people.

“Father-”

“Hush, child.” He held up a hand to silence her. “I wish to hear what this young man has to say.”

Mr Bennet’s mild-mannered eyes slid to Mr Darcy. The young man in question had been nervous but rarely in the whole course of his life. This was one of his few times and though Mr Bennet could not be more different from his own father, it felt as though he were five, facing his father’s disappointment once again. In his near decade out in society, Darcy had never found anyone quite as charming or as captivating or even as handsome as Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He had struggled with the depth of his feelings and now was his excuse to act upon them. Unlike those times facing his father, he stood up for himself.

“Mr Bennet, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The older man raised a brow. Elizabeth blinked in her shock; she had expected him to leave her ruined. She was sure he disliked her. Mr Darcy swallowed and ploughed on.

“Perhaps the details are best left for the morning. However, it is my intention to settle at least one property upon her in the event of my death and at least £100 a year in pin money.”

“I cannot be bought,” she said, viciously, choking back a sob. Mr Darcy looked anguished.

“Elizabeth, I had not meant -”

Mr Bennet cut him off and levelled a stern gaze at his favourite daughter.

“Mr Darcy is being far more generous than one might expect, Lizzie. And you would do well to remember that under the law you can be bargained for in such a way. I advise you to hold your tongue.”

He turned away from her, unwilling to see the sadness in her countenance. With the same stern tone, he spoke again, “That does not mean that I do not take an interest in the wellbeing of my daughter. I have heard that you once referred to her as “tolerable” and though this seems to me ungenerous, I have more interest in your regard for her wit, vivacity and her sharp tongue.”

Mr Darcy cocked a half smile – the first time Mr Bennet had seen any humour on his face.

“I must apologise for my words; I was in a foul mood that evening. I hold your daughter in high esteem, Sir, her mind is much improved by reading. Our evening tête-à-têtes are the highlight of my day. And I have come to consider her the handsomest woman of my acquaintance.”

At this last phrase he turned to hold her gaze with hope in his eyes. She dropped it, discomfited.

“Yes, yes,” Mr Bennet said impatiently. It was clear from the calf eyes he made at Lizzie that the man liked her.

“But what of her conversation?”

Here Mr Darcy paused, unsure of how honest he should be until he blurted out that she was the only person who had ever kept him engaged in conversation and the only one with whom he wholeheartedly enjoyed conversing.

“Our evening tête-à-têtes are the highlight of my day.”

Mr Bennet nodded. His daughter pinked at this high praise from a man who hardly spoke.

“I give you leave to be engaged. I think it wise, perhaps, to announce it this evening,” he said, watching Mr Darcy agree with a nod and a twitch of his lip.

“I shall expect your visit in the morning. Now then Lizzie, you have,” he glanced at his watch, “two minutes more alone with your fiancé before I expect you both in the sitting room.”

With that he left, pulling the door closed behind him. Elizabeth remained silent as her betrothed came up to her.

“Miss Bennet, I do not wish to buy you or your silence. All that I said was true,” he said, a slight blush suffusing his cheeks.

Some of her ire at the situation had cooled. She was confused. Her accounts of Mr Darcy were that he did not have a good character yet this did not align with the man before her.

“I dare say, I’m shocked, Mr Darcy,” she said, “After our many contretemps here at Netherfield – I did not think you enjoyed our conversation.”

Mr Darcy was choosing his words carefully when he saw the teasing glint in her eye despite her pale face. He grinned at her.

“Perhaps you do not know how confined and unvarying the Ton can be. All the conversation to be had is of petty gossip and the latest fashions. I confess I usually hide in the library or billiards room in London for there are no long walks or rides to be had.”

He smiled again when he saw he had shocked her almost speechless. Now she understood why he confessed to knowing only six accomplished women. Still she recovered quickly.

“I’m surprised, Sir, that you do not take an interest in lace such as the fine piece on my handkerchief,” she said, showing him the work.

“Indeed, it is very fine, perhaps I might keep it to examine it better and to better engage you in conversation,” he whispered. They had each gravitated close to each other and now they stood barely touching. Bending slightly, Mr Darcy gently pressed his lips to her warm cheek. He held her eyes for another moment before offering her his arm.

“I believe we have an announcement to make.”


	2. A FOREST OF LOVE

The next morning everything seemed to hit Elizabeth at once. She was engaged – to Mr Darcy! And he had even kissed her on the cheek. Her feelings were in confusion. She heard so many accounts of Mr Darcy that puzzled her completely.

She needed fresh air.

Taking a deep breath, she dressed quickly, grabbing her bonnet, pelisse and gloves. She was already striding up the path towards the forest by the time she finally attired.

Mr Darcy had been so gentle with her last night and so apologetic. While at Netherfield he had seemed all politeness, albeit a little haughty and she had certainly sensed his disdain for Caroline Bingley and even Mr Hurst. Chuckling to herself, she recalled Miss Bingley idly flicking through a book as she wandered the room. It had not escaped her notice that it was the sequel to Mr Darcy’s. The “fashionable” young lady had then leaned over Mr Darcy to read his own book, undoubtedly, to gain his attention. And then Mr Darcy seemed so kind and protective of Mr Bingley. It was clear he saw the man like a brother.

Where on earth did Mr Wickham’s tale fit in? Before she had tended to Jane, she had been entirely sure of the story, yet now she was not convinced. He had certainly wasted no time in regaling her with it. Perhaps Jane was right, she liked – or at least had liked? – Mr Wickham. Although his looks had once allured her, she was now drawn to Mr Darcy’s broader shoulders and curls. She imagined they would be soft to the touch.

Elizabeth stopped to sit on a stump at a pretty copse of holly bushes where she came to think. This land was on the border between Longbourne and Netherfield; she found herself wondering if Mr Darcy enjoyed early morning walks as much as she did. After all, she had met him on the grounds that first morning at Netherfield. On the other mornings she had sometimes seen him leave on horseback.

Closing her eyes, she tried to let go of her emotions. She could hear the stream and the wind and somewhere in the distance, farm hands and cows. Before long the unmisteakeable sound of a horse reached her ears. They stopped not too far away.

“Here Cedric, have a drink and a rest. We’ll need it for the hunt today,” the rider said.

Elizabeth peeked through the bushes to see her fiancé petting an enormous black horse. The man took his jacket off draping it over the saddle. He rolled his sleeves carefully and removed his cravat. Just like his horse he bent to the stream and took a drink and washed his face. Smiling he shook his wet curls.

His admirer, thoroughly amused, slipped and grabbed the sharp holly to steady herself. She yelped as her hand was covered in tiny scratches.

“Who’s there? Show yourself,” he called out, coming in her direction. He found her seated ungracefully on the floor.

“Elizabeth! Are you alright?”

She grimaced, “Just a little surprised, Sir. I haven’t fallen since I was fifteen.”

“Let me help you up,” he said, with a soft smile, “It would not do to damage your dignity.”

“It is my pride that is damaged, Mr Darcy, nothing more. Besides you are always finding me in compromising positions.”

Embarrassed she looked away letting go of the hand that helped her up. His face twisted into an anxious frown.

“Elizabeth – that is – Miss Bennet,” he began, “You have my apologies for the position I put you in last night – I did not think and I took liberties. I – Miss Bennet I am often distracted by your beauty –”

“You apologise, sir, but you seem to lay the blame with me. Unlike you I do not have the liberty of buying or marrying every person I am distracted by.”

“Buying?” he said, confused as to how this happy meeting had turned into an argument. Elizabeth had the decency to blush.

“Mr Darcy, you settled such a large sum of money on me how can it be otherwise? If you wish for my silence and obedience, I am not sure you have chosen your wife correctly.”

Bewildered, he asked, “Your silence? Your obedience?”

After a pause she managed to squeak out the word “mistress”. His thunderous face made her turn away.

“Elizabeth, I love you. I settle so much on you because I do not wish you to worry in the event of my death. I love you among other reasons because I enjoy your opinions; you are not afraid to give them just because I am rich. Your obedience and silence are what I would despise.”

He took her face and turned it up to his as he stepped closer. They were a foot apart. He could see her chest heave as she breathed, and he wished they were already married.

“Elizabeth, I love you most ardently. I was careless with my actions for the first time in my life,” he whispered, “and I could not be happier with the result.”

He could tell she was shocked by his passionate speech. She had never been so silent in conversation. His smile dropped and he stepped back, letting her go.

“Of course, Miss Bennet, if you wish me to release you from our engagement you need only say so.”

He bowed and headed for his horse.

“Mr Darcy, wait,” she said, taking his hand. It was warm and rough. How lovely it had felt on her face. Shyly, she replaced it there.

“I am surprised,” she said in a low voice, “The depth of your feelings astonishes me. I do not think I love you now as you do me.”

She clung to his hand lest he pull it away and gazed earnestly at him. He was curious as to her point, shifting toward her.

“I should like to keep our engagement. I do like you, Mr Darcy, I just do not love you yet.”

He took another step toward her, so their feet were almost touching. He placed his other hand firmly on her waist before tilting her chin up. She gave him a tiny nod. He pressed his lips to hers and pulled her body closer. Her fingers gingerly found themselves dancing above his colours and into his hair. It was as soft as she imagined.

“You do not know how happy you have made me,” he grinned at her.

“Perhaps you might call on me later today?”, she said, dimples in her cheeks.

“That would be most agreeable,” he replied, brushing a lock of her hair back into place.

“Excellent! You do not know how happy you have made my mother. She is already in a tizzy to plan the wedding and would heartily welcome her son in law.”

Smirking at his grimace, she danced out of his arms. He bowed gentlemanly over her hand and kissed it.

“I shall call on you later then, my lady.”

Then he reclaimed his horse and they parted, each with hearts pounding and faces flushed from the ‘exercise’.

Once she got home Elizabeth changed her dress and redid her hair. She was nervous for his visit. Mrs Bennet insisted on the lady’s maid tending to Elizabeth before Jane in a break from tradition, but her second daughter was already in the parlour, fussing over an embroidery screen. It was fiddly work and she became frustrated by her stitches, unpicking them and redoing them, perfection not quite within her grasp. When her younger sisters entered Mary’s piano playing jangled on her nerves and Lydia’s giggling grated as she whispered to Kitty about Wickham, Denny and other redcoats.

Jane squeezed her hand. Elizabeth took a deep breath before she snapped, murmuring to her sister that they should all have some compassion on her poor nerves. Jane smiled at her. The most irritating sound in the room was the creak-creak of her mother’s rocking chair and her nervous exclamations.

Finally Hill announced the arrival of two gentlemen, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. Mrs Bennet greeted them warmly, crowing about the virtues of her future son-in-law. She quickly found some pretext to remove herself and her three younger daughters in the room. Outside, the strong matriarch met with Mr Collins and engaged him on a walk in the garden with the rest of her troupe.

“Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy said quietly as he sat beside his betrothed. Jane and Mr Bingley were talking softly by the fireplace.

“Mr Darcy,” she said, looking him in the eye, “Did you enjoy your exercise this morning?”

His mouth curved up at that. He glanced at her lips.

“Indeed, I did Elizabeth, though I’d prefer it if you called me Fitzwilliam.”

“Of course. Do you believe you will repeat your morning exertions often, Fitzwilliam?”

His name on her tongue was music to his ears. He inched closer to her on the divan.

“I hope to enjoy this morning’s exercise every morning, even when we are at Pemberley.”

She blushed happily but before she could speak he continued to speak lower than before.

“In fact, I might enjoy a little exercise now.”

Carefully, he put one hand on her waist, the other trembled as it tilted her chin up. Seeing her tiny nod, he leant down pressing his lips to hers. Tentatively, she let her hand reach out to grab his waistcoat. It was made of a soft blue silk.

“Lizzie!” 

The couple jumped a foot apart.

“Darcy, I had no idea you were such a passionate man,” Bingley teased. Looking at his ‘angel’, he hastily added, “Although you might save it for the wedding night.”

Jane took her sisters hand, disapprovingly leading her to sit between herself and Mr Bingley. Jane gave her a look that only older sisters know, demanding a full explanation later on. Mr Darcy reddened even further.

“Jane, Mr Darcy – Fitzwilliam and I were simply-”

Here Elizabeth faltered as she heard her mother come in, instructing Hill to arrange the flowers in a vase. 

“Lizzie,” she said, “Why are you neglecting your fiancé? Come sit with Mr Darcy and I so we can discuss your wedding plans.”

“But Mama-”

“Hush, Jane, I need to speak to the couple alone. Please ring the bell for tea, dear. Now then, Sir, what do you think of these flowers?”

“I defer to Elizabeth, after all we will wed on whatever date she chooses and therefore such fine dahlias as these may not be available. I’m sure your flower garden has many others as perfect as these, Mrs Bennet.”

Mrs Bennet was quite shocked into silence from such eloquence as she had never seen from Mr Darcy.

“Before we marry, Fitzwilliam, I must organise my trousseau. Would you wish to purchase a special license or simply wait for the banns to be read?”

Mr Darcy frowned. He was sure his aunt would interfere if it were possible.

“How quickly can you get a trousseau? I’d be happy to acquire a licence for us.”

At the mention of clothes purchases, Mrs Bennet was revived without the need for smelling salts.

“Oh, Lizzie, we must go to London to see about your wedding clothes. Your Uncle will know all the best warehouses and if we write to him today, we can go the end of this week and be back after another. Thus, you can be married two weeks hence.”

“Mrs Bennet,” Mr Bingley interrupted, anxiously clutching his hat, “I do hope you intend to leave after the ball on Friday, I’m sure Darcy would love to join his fiancé on the dancefloor.”

“We would not miss your ball for anything, kind Sir.”

“I must inquire after a special license then,” Mr Darcy said, kissing Elizabeth’s hand and taking his leave of the room. Once he and Charles were on their horses, he scowled at his laughing friend.

Indoors, Mrs Bennet became a whirlwind of activity. She forced her husband to write to her brother, watching over his shoulder and wheedled more money out of him for Elizabeth’s wedding clothes. They decided – or Mrs Bennet insisted – Jane would go with them also to get at least one new dress as it was almost certain she would soon be married to Mr Bingley. Mr Bennet grumbled at the loss of his two eldest daughters and having to remain with the silliest and Mr Collins. At least Mary was not so bad.


	3. IN WHICH THINGS GET INTIMATE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Love your comments and kudos.
> 
> Stay safe sweeties and see you next Saturday xxxx

That night when the married couple lay in bed together, Mrs Bennet related what she had seen from the window.

“Oh, Mr Bennet! They were kissing!” she faux whispered, “He must truly like her a great deal. And – you will never guess–”

“Please, tell me no more of the cloth he was wearing or what you insist on buying for Lizzie.”

“Oh hush,” she said as swatted him on the arm. Her mood could not be ruined by his acerbic comments tonight.

“I heard them refer to each on a first name basis! What a fine thing for our Elizabeth.”

Mr Bennet’s scowl softened a little.

“Dear Lizzie does deserve more than the rest, but it does not excuse the audacity of the man. Kissing in my parlour room? Let us not forget, my dear, that it was he got her into this engagement.”

“Oh, Mr Bennet, how can you be so tiresome? Do you not recall our kisses in my father’s parlour room?”

He simply harrumphed before silencing his wife on the subject with another kiss.

“Now what do you think of Mary,” his wife began again, clutching at his hand.

“She is neither handsome nor particularly clever. Her efforts on the pianoforte show little talent and bear little fruit.”

Mrs Bennet rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, well this all very good but I mean of Mary and Mr Collins?”

“Mary and Mr Collins?”

Once again Mr Bennet put down his book to pay his wife his full attention.

“How you can be so unobservant I shall never know! Ever since Jane and Lizzie have been at Netherfield, Mary has occupied the bulk of his time. I dissuaded him from Jane as Bingley was there before him, but I saw he had taken a fancy to Lizzie. She ran off all wild to Netherfield though and now he has had Mary for company. I never expected much out of Mary although I now hope for a match there. It would be so dreary to have her as a spinster.”

Her husband took this little speech in silently. Once he had digested this new information, he was very little surprised. His third daughter had always been interested in scripture, and neither he nor his wife knew quite how to relate to her. It was clear, in a way, that she admired Mr Collins.

“Pray tell, my dear, why are you telling me?”

“When he asks for her hand you must say yes.”

Exasperated, she rearranged the covers and settled down.

“Now may I sleep?”

She grumbled until he covered her in kisses.

Where the married Bennets enjoyed their bedchamber, Fitzwilliam could not sleep. He tossed, cursing himself for further compromising Elizabeth by kissing her in her own home in front of others. He turned, wishing she were in his arms to receive his kisses now. 

Ever since he had come into society a wealthy and extremely eligible bachelor, he had purposefully kept his bedroom locked and with him the only key. Those ladies and maids as bold as Miss Bingley disgusted him. More than once he had seen his door rattle at night and heard the light footsteps of a lady. But while Elizabeth had stayed at Netherfield, he had often wished she would enter his rooms looking just as lost as she had when she found him in the billiards room. Sighing, he gripped his shaft, pumping himself into a handkerchief. Elizabeth would always be welcome in his chambers. He hoped that they would sleep in the same bed once they were married.

Her long hair would be unbraided and spread across their pillows. Groaning, Darcy fisted himself into another handkerchief as he thought of her smooth décolletage.

****  
Unbeknownst to Mr Darcy, Elizabeth was similarly troubled. Occasionally she had felt an excitement or a tightening of her belly when she danced with a man she found particularly attractive. Sometimes, if she were honest, even when Mr Darcy had looked at her before their engagement. And she felt it now. She was restless and dissatisfied. She knew, of course, that married couples became intimate after marriage and that this led to children. When Fitzwilliam kissed her, she had wanted more – of what?

Once, when she was very young, her mother had explained that her father had given her a gift in her womb and this gift had led to the five daughters. As quietly as she could, Elizabeth rose. She was sure she might find some answers in the library. Wrapping her shawl around her, she crept down the stairs, missing the creaky steps.

The shelves did not hold her interest this night as they once had. Her father kept some books in his desk that he was very particular about. Aged eleven she had found them boring; now she was sure they contained the answer.

The next morning, she woke in the armchair with a pain in her neck. Her father loomed over her, amusement in his eyes.

She started guiltily, “Father.”

“Do not worry my child, I knew you would return to these one day. I had kept them for a son, and you are the closest thing.”

He smiled benevolently at her.

“Now you might want to head to breakfast before Kitty finishes it. It is nearly ten thirty already, my dear.”

Deeply ashamed, Elizabeth hurried to the breakfast room. She had missed her excursion to see Fitzwilliam before he left to obtain the licence. At least she might be able to pen a note to him before Mr Bingley arrived to call on Jane so he would have her apology when he returned. She scoffed her last piece of bread in her haste to write. Jane was already in the parlour, patiently working on her embroidery and Mary, who was discussing a book of sermons with Mr Collins. Elizabeth greeted them and sat by her favourite sister.

“Good morning Lizzie. It is not like you to be up so late. You look very tire, are you well?”

“Truthfully, Jane, I am exhausted.” She lowered her voice. “I dare not tell you about it here but when we have some privacy I shall relate the entire story to you.”

Jane was not surprised by her sister’s insistence on privacy; she, herself, had always hated her mother’s butting in and reading correspondence. Instead she asked her younger sister what colour she preferred for the robin she was depicting. Happily, and somewhat distractedly Elizabeth gave her opinions on colours and then on clothes for the wedding. She was too anxious that Mr Darcy was angry with her to do any of her own needlework. 

Surprisingly, Mary, whose voice had not been heard as her companion droned on, voiced her own opinion on trousseaus. She would buy some practical day dresses, one fine Sunday dress and perhaps a simple evening gown.

“I am aware,” said Mr Collins, in his superior tone, “that a trousseau is not to be taken lightly but you show such great economy in choosing this way, cousin. My noble patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh is famed for her economy although I am sure she spares no expense on her elegant gowns. My respect for your choice, fair cousin Mary, is therefore abundant.”  
The elder sisters exchanged a look as Mary bowed her head modestly. They had both noticed her regard for him but were well aware that he had skipped down the line of sisters as each one was claimed for. Privately they thought she could do better, though pickings were slim, and she may have to make do. Jane was not as opposed as Elizabeth was; she found Mr Collins an entirely disagreeable, stupid man. 

“Mr Collins,” said Jane, “Is economy what you seek in a wife?”

“I believe a good wife should possess those particular traits that are happy and agreeable. Economy is certainly necessary for a parson’s wife. Lady Catherine herself advised me to marry a useful, active sort of person who might be of great benefit to the parish. Piety, obedience and devotion to the Lord are also of utmost important for a wife.”

Mary seemed to preen as much as she was able.

“Indeed,” she replied, “We must recall Proverbs 31:10-31. “A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands. She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants. She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.” A wife of a parson must be as diligent as possible.”

It was as Mr Collins began yet another speech to heartily agree with her and extol the virtues of an obedient wife that Hill entered to announce the presence of Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy. The two men bowed as they entered the room and the ladies curtsied in turn. Elizabeth stepped towards her fiancé.

“Fitzwilliam! I thought you would be gone to London today.”

“Not until tomorrow,” he said.

“Miss Bennets, Mr Collins, shall we take a turn in the garden today? The weather is charming for an October day.”

Mr Bingley’s plan was readily agreed upon and they left the house. Bingley and Jane outpaced the group in their nervous excitement; the betrothed pair lingered by some flowers that Elizabeth thought might do for the wedding.

“Fitzwilliam, I am sorry to have missed you this morning. I know we had no plans to meet but I had rather hoped. I could not sleep and then I fell asleep in the library.”

She heard a low chuckle from her companion.

“I could not sleep either. I have heard that someone must be thinking of you if you are awake at night.”

“Were you thinking of me?” she asked teasingly, before realising he had been in bed. Mortified she busied herself with the rose bush.

“I was.”

His voice was even deeper than before. Her gut clenched.

“Tell me, what was in the library that kept you up so late?”

Elizabeth blushed as she thought of the pictures she had seen the night before. Her mind imagined them similarly discomposed.

“I was curious. I had a question about weddings that I needed answered.”

Mr Darcy grimaced, “I will obtain the licence, do not fret, dearest Elizabeth. I will be back for the ball on Friday.”

“It was not that that concerned me, although I hope you do not wish to avoid dancing with me. You might find in me a dance partner who is more than tolerable. I may even be handsome enough to tempt you there. I will be sure to wear my finest gown.”

Her eyes danced with mischief.

“Do not repeat what I said then, I was is in no humour that evening –”

“– to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men?”

Mr Darcy glared at her. He glanced around and seeing no one was about, grabbed her waist and pulled her in to kiss her. Elizabeth closed her eyes in a heady rush of attraction. Just as suddenly, he pulled away to pick a vibrant calendula and not a moment too soon. Jane and Bingley rounded the corner to keep an eye on them.

“You did not answer my question.”

“It is too embarrassing to say.”

“Even to your future husband?” Carefully he threaded the long stem into her hair so the flower sat by her chignon. It complemented her mustard pelisse brilliantly.

“You look beautiful.”

Elizabeth smiled up at Fitzwilliam, this kind man who loved her with all his heart, and gathered her courage, choosing her words carefully

“When we kiss, I feel something. I did not know what it was and was determined to find out. I wanted to be prepared, to know what to expect on our wedding night. I found an enlightening book.”

Now it was Darcy’s turn to blush. A man of few words, he simply took her arm in his and let her lead him to her sisters.


	4. THE PREAM-BALL

The few days leading up to the ball were nerve racking for Elizabeth. She was gripped with anxieties that Fitzwilliam would come to his senses in London and break their engagement. During the day she managed to shove these thoughts down as she helped Jane and Bingley or Mary and Mr Collins. At night-time she was often distressed and slept little. Jane let her creep into her room and sleep with her just like they had done as girls. She compared herself to the Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, Jane and all the other fine young ladies of society. Jane gently told her not to be so silly.

Perhaps, she should have encouraged Mr Collins while she had the chance. If she had stayed home with him and not run off after Jane and to escape her family for a while she would not be engaged. The thought of him kissing her made her skin crawl in the way that leeches did. She imagined his kisses would be much like the unpleasantness of bloodletting. In any case Jane and Elizabeth had spoken to Mary and sought to show her off to Mr Collins more subtly than their mother.

Jane and Mr Bingley spent their mornings together usually with Elizabeth as an unofficial chaperone – her youngest sisters spoke too much of officers. Elizabeth wondered when Bingley would propose. He spent every day with Jane. Casually, he had mentioned guests from town arriving for the ball. Jane said nothing though she was privately concerned that she was nothing of peculiar interest to Mr Bingley. A general air of despondency began to settle at Longbourn as proposals were not forthcoming. Even Kitty and Lydia mourned the loss of Wickham to Miss King, a freckled thing they were sure he did not care for. Charlotte Lucas was no less affected; her best friend was to be removed to Derbyshire and Mary, who had seemed just as destined for spinsterhood as herself, might soon be married too. 

The attitude at Darcy’s townhouse was rather different. His two favourite relations were staying there, and he enjoyed their company as he procured the licence. Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam were all astonishment; Darcy had never even hinted an attachment and now they were to be wed posthaste. Pleased, although secretly suspicious, the Colonel asked for every detail about the future Mrs Darcy. With far more happy and naïve views, Georgiana began to insist as well. Darcy was at his wits end – they were both invited to the wedding. He assured his sister that he would introduce her when Elizabeth came to purchase her trousseau. The same tactic did not assuage the Colonel, who was determined to join Darcy at the ball. Then they would return to London at the same time as the Bennets. Georgiana was too young for a ball still but there was no reason not to invite the Colonel and he was forced to relent.

Timidly, Georgiana plucked up the courage to speak to her brother.

“Fitzwilliam, will I be away from you this Christmas? I hope I can stay with our cousin rather than our Aunt?”

Darcy gave his sister a fierce hug and a handkerchief.

“Georgia, do you think me so cruel as to leave you with Lady Catherine? Or worse, Fitzwilliam?”

The girl laughed.

“I am being slandered most abominably. For that remark alone Georgiana and I shall invade your house at Christmas, and I shall write to my Aunt at once with this report from her ‘favourite’ nephew.”

“What do you know of invading, Fitz?” Darcy replied drily. “Do not fret Georgia, I am certain that you and Elizabeth will get along fine. She is one of five sisters.”

“So many?” she said. As a young girl she had often pictured a sister or perhaps six. Pemberley had been quiet with only one child; her father’s death had only stifled the grand house further making the piano sound thin.

“Well at the very least she will tolerate you just as I tolerate Darcy,” the Colonel said winking, “Perhaps there might be a sister for me too?”

Darcy merely rolled his eyes and instructed him to be ready to leave in an hour.

*****  
Finally, it was Friday, the day of the Netherfield ball. Elizabeth had not seen her fiancé for two days together and though she knew it was silly she was still afraid that some family member of his had objected to the match, swaying him in favour of a well-bred genteelwoman, far more accomplished than she. Unsurprisingly, her mother was playing on her other nerves, for conversation ranged between the diverse topics of wedding plans and wedding gowns. Elizabeth praised God that she had already bought a new dress not too long ago and had been spared the stress and expense of ordering a new dress at such short notice as Mary had been forced to do. Although Elizabeth’s dress was not as elegant as those of the Bingley sisters, Mrs Bennet assured her second daughter that she was almost as pretty as her eldest. 

Lydia was quite put out by this. She was used to being her mother’s favourite and the second prettiest, after Jane of course. Now Elizabeth was the favourite of both parents. It was unprecedented that Elizabeth had her hair done before Jane, and Mary before Kitty and Lydia. Mary being lauded! and she was hardly pretty – not that Lydia envied her Mr Collins. Tonight, she was determined to have all the attention and dance every dance with one of the officers. She was sure one of the officers would fall in love with her tonight and they would elope to Gretna Green. Perhaps it would even be Mr Wickham! What a laugh that would be, to marry him after he had been Lizzie’s favourite. It all sounded so terribly romantic. 

Mary had her own romantic plans for the evening, Mr Collins had asked her for the first two dances. She was not at all at ease as she tried to recall the steps with Jane to music she had played so often. She hoped the rest of their evening could be spent in pleasant conversation as she had passed many other balls. Fondly, she recalled the parson’s son who occasionally offered her a dance at balls. She wondered if he would be surprised to see her dancing at least twice with Mr Collins. Jane and Elizabeth had discreetly sent their mother to check on her youngest daughters so they could be alone with Mary. They added simple pearl pins to her hair and helped her into her dress. Very gently as she was not brave with makeup, they added a little rouge to give her a natural flush and a tiny amount of lipstick to redden her lips. Her eyelashes had always been long and dark. Mary smiled at herself in the mirror and resolved to wear rouge more often. Her complexion though smooth was very pale and had a light dusting of freckles that they covered with a little white powder. They did not want Mr Collins to think her shallow, so these touches were extremely light to be almost unnoticeable. She flung her arms around her elder sisters and was overjoyed to hear her mother say that she “would do very well” and that little makeup “became her”.

******  
Caroline Bingley was furious. She had spent years at Darcy’s side patiently waiting for him and now he had gotten himself engaged to some trumped up country hussy. They would be wed over her dead body. She was determined to reside at Pemberley like the queen she was. Besides, he could hardly be happy with a nobody who tramped about in the mud just because her sister had caught a cold. 

She had heard, as they all had that evening, Mr Collin’s lecture on virtue. What an irritating man. Nonetheless she was sure poor Darcy had been tricked by tat girl somehow. As she dressed carefully at her vanity, Caroline was sure she could entice Darcy at the ball tonight. He was simply shy and too noble to break his engagement. Cross with her lady’s maid, she berated her for pulling her hair. Honestly, could the girl not do a damn thing right? 

Annoyingly Darcy had spent every other evening disagreeably dining with the Bennet family – she was sure their house was a pigsty, after all the mother looked and ate like one. Now he had returned from London with a licence and his army cousin – the second son, she was sure he had barely two pennies to rub together. 

Her makeup brush snapped. The maid trembled as Caroline screamed at her for being so stupid. She had only been doing Miss Bingley’s hair. Thankfully, she would soon marry the stable hand and be free of her vicious mistress and her vicious temper. Once she had finished the last few pins, she excused herself and hurried to find Mr Darcy’s valet. They all knew Miss Bingley was livid about the engagement and the master had best be warned that she was on the warpath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Also hope you guys are staying safe!
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos/comments/hits love you all!!!
> 
> ps sorry not sorry about the pun title of chapter :D


	5. NETHERFIELD BALL

Mr Bingley and his guests stood patiently at the door waiting to greet the attendants of the Netherfield Ball. The host was sure he had never seen anyone so beautiful as Jane Bennet was this night. Mr Darcy was inclined to disagree as his eyes held only Elizabeth in their gaze; Caroline’s incessant chatting had driven him to distraction, and he was thankful his valet kept him well informed. As soon as Elizabeth arrived, he swept her away and introduced her briefly to his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam before claiming her for the first two dances and his personal favourite, the sarabande. It was improper to ask for so many dances at once, but Darcy did not care, and Elizabeth was flattered as he led her about the dancefloor.

She discovered that despite Darcy’s many objections to dancing, his movements were fluid and graceful. Every time his large hands clasped her own or her waist, she felt a secret thrill. Sadly, the dances seemed to end far too soon, and she quietly lamented the loss of his touch when he escorted her to see Charlotte. The two were formally introduced and met with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth stood up with the Colonel and Mr Bingley, as did Charlotte but Darcy danced only with Elizabeth. After the last reel, the Colonel and Darcy went to fetch drinks for the ladies.

Caroline watched these happy little scenes play out in anger as she downed another cup of wine. She ranted – sotto voce, of course – to Luisa about Darcy. He had danced three dances with Elizabeth Bennet and none with her! In fact he hardly noticed her despite the particular care she had given to her appearance. Luisa murmured quietly, sympathetically, that they were engaged, and Caroline began another rant. How could he be engaged to her? She was a clumsy dancer – all her family were. 

They had both watched with amusement and scorn as the serious sister danced with the odious pastor. They had muddled the steps; the only reason they had not fallen over each other was Jane and Charles’ assistance. The latter couple’s happy smiles also irked Caroline. She shook a little as she commandeered her sister’s cup of wine. Luisa knew better than to resist her elder sister’s ugly temper. Wisely, she stepped away to cajole her husband into dancing one reel with her. Grumbling he agreed and they left Caroline stewing in the corner.

Charlotte and Elizabeth were chatting excitedly about everything as best friends are wont to do. They talked of Mary and Mr Collins, Bingley and Jane, wedding plans, and the handsome Colonel who might be a suitable bachelor. As Elizabeth wiggled her brows at her friend, they were approached by Mr Wickham. He had spent a fair portion of the night so far dancing with Lydia and Kitty and he came to claim Elizabeth for the next dance, citing a promise she had made at Mrs Long’s soiree to dance with him at the next opportunity. Hesitatingly, as she saw her fiancé glare at him, she accepted, and Wickham beamed at her, promising to return at the beginning of the next dance.

“Oh Charlotte! Why could I not think of an excuse? Fitzwilliam was glaring at me for some reason. I cannot think why!”

On the other side of the ballroom, whilst Charlotte replied with the tact and maturity Elizabeth relied upon, Caroline was attempting to ingratiate herself with Mr Darcy. She sidled up to Mr Darcy at the punch bowl.

“Is that Mr Wickham talking to your fiancée? I cannot believe it! He used to be her favourite you know.”

The words dropped temptingly from her tongue, but Darcy was not a man of petty gossip.

“Indeed,” he said calmly. He could see Miss Lucas was still with Elizabeth and she had seemed a sensible, rational sort of woman. Caroline was interrupted before she could begin by the Colonel’s angry voice.

“Is he wearing regimentals? Why I ought to have him thrown out or talk to Colonel Forster about him.”

“Calm down, Fitz, would you want to create a scandal in the middle of my friend’s ball?”

Caroline, who had begun to insult the dresses and taste of other women, was abandoned as the two men determined to discover what he had wanted. Darcy’s face was grim despite his calm demeanour. Elizabeth feared she had done wrong and recalled the encounter and exchange between the two men in town. Mr Wickham had told her at Mrs Long’s soiree that an unhappy history of sorts existed between them, and he had been so in earnest that she was sure it was Darcy who had done the wronging. Now she was not so sure.

“What business had Mr Wickham with you?”

“That knave,” added the Colonel, handing Charlotte her drink.

“Fitzwilliam, forgive me, he asked my hand for the next set and I had no excuse willing.”

Darcy’s face softened and squeezed her hand. Perhaps he was worried about her slighting him for a man of little consequence.

“Do not fret dear,” he said in a low voice, “I was merely concerned. I would rather you did not dance with him, but I shall tell you why tomorrow. It is not something for us to discuss here and as much as I would enjoy sneaking to the library to discuss it, I do not wish to start any rumours with so many eyes upon us. Trust me to reveal it to you tomorrow.”

She suddenly became aware of Caroline and her mother and every other mother in town watching them. She nodded and squeezed his arm. Charlotte send her friend a smug look. She had long suspected that they would make an excellent couple. The quartet began a new happier discussion, and Mr Darcy engaged Charlotte’s hand for the next dance. It was clear she meant a fair deal to Elizabeth and this gesture livened her mood.

“Alas now I have no partner,” the Colonel joked, “What would you have me do?”

“Find some other lady to dance with, Fitz, there are plenty of them.”

“You and Bingley are forever engaging the three prettiest girls.”

Charlotte blushed as he winked at her.

“Well, Elizabeth is the prettiest woman here and I pray that no other men will come to claim her for a dance.”

“Your scowl certainly keeps them away,” Elizabeth remarked. Darcy grinned at her.

“All the better. In any case, I know of a lady in need of a dance partner. Caroline Bingley has been most put out.”

The Colonel shuddered a little.

“Not after all you’ve told me about her trying to get her hands on you or our little conversation. Instead I shall ask for Charlotte’s hand for the next after you, and then perhaps we can broaden our circle. Do you know that I have not yet met Miss Bennet? Charles talks about her nonstop.”

Any line of questioning into this was cut short by Wickham’s arrival. The room suddenly felt a few degrees frostier as the men faced each other off. Elizabeth left for the dance floor as soon as possible as she feared a fight would break out.

“You know Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam well then?” Mr Wickham asked as they weaved through other couples.

“Indeed, Mr Darcy is my fiancé. Perhaps you missed the news while visiting Miss King?”

“Engaged?” he said. The surprise on his face would have been evident had they not both turned away. He plastered on a flirtatious grin instead.

“Well I am sorry to hear that; he has taken one of the prettiest women in England.”

Elizabeth laughed, “You flatter me.”

When the dance ended, Elizabeth returned to Mr Darcy immediately and they listened a while to the tete-a-tete of others. Mary and Mr Collins’ clumsy albeit sweet dancing was mentioned. Cringing, they heard Mrs Bennet extolling the virtues of her new son in law.

“….that will the throw the girls into the path of other rich men.”

They cringed anew as she began on Jane and Mr Bingley, declaring “Now there will be a great match.” Hastily, a pink Elizabeth led them away to talk to the aforementioned couple who had finally stopped dancing, and to introduce the Colonel.

It had not slipped Caroline’s notice to have seen the anger in Wickham’s face earlier that evening. After dancing with Elizabeth, he had spent a fair deal glowering at the couple she longed to break up. It occurred to Caroline that she might have another ally. Previously she had encouraged Mr Collins (with very little prompting) to congratulate his patroness on her nephew’s upcoming nuptials. He had leapt at the idea. Now Caroline penned a letter of her own to Mr Wickham to ensure her ruination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i acc do ship mr & mrs bennet  
> i hope you liked this cute chapter!! ball is coming soon :O
> 
> thanks for all the comments/hits/kudos <3 love y'all


	6. REVELATIONS

The day after the ball shone an unwelcome sun into Elizabeth’s face. She groaned until she recalled Fitzwilliam’s promise to recount everything that happened between Wickham and himself. Hastily, she dressed, grabbing an apple on her way out. A few miles away, Fitzwilliam was the first to breakfast, drinking his coffee rather quickly. As soon as he could he was urging his horse to the edge of the estate grounds. He had hardly slept, nervous. Elizabeth was sure to think him an unfit husband from the way he had neglected his sister.

The forest groves behind Longbourne were always peaceful so early n the morning. Tiny birds flitted about, and red squirrels were hiding stores for the coming winter. Elizabeth watched them from a tree stump as she awaited Mr Darcy. She had jogged here as soon as she was out of sight of the house. She stood when she heard footsteps and turned to greet a surprised Mr Wickham.

“Mr Wickham,” she said, hiding her disappointment, “I was unaware that you enjoyed early morning walks.”

“Miss Bennet.” He bowed. “I was in need of fresh air this morning and I’m glad I came. You are looking very well this day.” He smiled cheekily at her. “Shall we take a turn together?”

Elizabeth, too embarrassed to admit she was awaiting her fiancé covertly and unchaperoned, was forced to accept. There was no reason to stay. She managed a smile of her own and took his arm.

“I was surprised to learn that you were engaged to Mr Darcy. I thought that you once held him in as high disregard as I do.”

“He has been very good to me so I must vouch for his present character. My knowing him better has improved him in my eyes.” She recalled Jane’s conviction that there must be some misunderstanding between the two of them. “I can appeal to him if you like. I’m sure whatever has passed must have been some misunderstanding.” Elizabeth was determined to be less proud. She doubted that the two men would ever see eye to eye.

Her companion conceded, “Perhaps love has changed him.”

He noticed Elizabeth redden at the mention of love. Perhaps love had not yet affected her.

“I thought that at one time your affections lay… elsewhere,” he said, stopping to look her in the eyes. Elizabeth merely smiled. It would be highly inappropriate to admit such a thing now that she was engaged. Besides her passing fancy for Wickham had been just that: a fancy, a flirtatious friendship. She had never begrudged him chasing after other ladies.

“I hear I am to congratulate you on your own engagement Mr Wickham. How is the lovely Miss King?”

“Ah, Miss King,” he fumbled. Elizabeth laughed, scaring a few birds.

“Come, Mr Wickham, unlike my sisters I know that young men also require something to live on.” 

He smiled ruefully, “If only Mr Darcy had paid me the living I was owed. His father loved me very much.”

“Oh.” She turned away to pick a flower, hiding her confusion. She did not think her fiancé capable of such a thing as he seemed so generous. Wickham suddenly felt his anger rise as he watched her bending. Her figure alluded to through thin skirts. If old Mr Darcy had never had a son, perhaps he could have had her and the money. She leant a little too far, slipping and he grabbed her by the waist to steady her.

“I thought, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, dragging her flush against his frame so that his breath was hot on her neck, “that you might have enjoyed this with me. I always found you to be the prettiest Miss Bennet.” He squeezed her breast and her waist. “If Mr Darcy had never been born, I’d have his riches and women like you.

She struggled to free herself, but he turned her with ease and drew her hands around him as though they were paramours. He grinned lasciviously. She was very aware of his touch as though it burned where he held her. A situation so similar to the one that had led to her engagement might now break it. 

“Does Darcy make you feel like this, pet?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. She could smell alcohol on his breath.

“No,” she said, through gritted teeth, “He never makes me so angry and he always behaves like a perfect gentleman.”

He snarled at her and attempted to kiss her. He hair came undone during their struggle. Finally, her wits returned to her and she stomped firmly on his instep before kneeing him in the groin. Yelping with pain, Wickham released her, dropping to his knees.

Elizabeth ran. She praised God for having defied her mother to run about these woods. Longbourne and Wickham were behind her though and Netherfield still two miles hence. If Wickham came after she would either have to encounter someone – and she prayed that Fitzwilliam was on his way – or circle back. She did not dare the latter. Her feet pounded the soft earth. She finally reached the path to Netherfield and nearly wept with relief to see a familiar figure on horseback.

“Good God Elizabeth, what happened?” he asked. Her dress was crumpled and ripped, her hair undone and as she reached him, she began to cry.  
“Wickham, he imposed himself on me,” was all she managed through her sobs. His face darkened and she realised he would never forgive her if they went through with the marriage.

“Please forgive me, Sir,” she said, trembling, “I release you from our marriage contract. I – I am ruined.”

“Elizabeth you have done nothing wrong. He has preyed on you just as he preyed on my sister.” He dismounted and helped her up to sit before him. He could feel her shaking as she leant back into him. Tenderly, he kissed her forehead before rushing to Longbourne watched by an angry man.

Mary was spending her morning with a book as she was wont to do on sunny days; she sat on the bench in the rose garden surrounded by late blooms. The sun was strong although not warm enough to leave off her coat. She squinted at the page. She had begun to neglect her glasses in front of Mr Collins. She had always ridiculed Lydia and Kitty for their beauty concerns and now she was acting just as silly. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost missed the crunch of shoes on the pathway.

When Mr Collins came upon her, she looked like a painting, her hair was modestly coiled on her head, her posture perfect with a book in hand. She smiled awkwardly at him unsure of how to charm him. Before she could even think of what to say, Mr Collins kneeled down equally awkwardly in front of her.

“My dearest cousin Mary,” he said pompously, his chest puffed out like a courting bird, “I have requested a private audience with you from your mother. She has granted it and now I am here to discuss an important matter with you. You see my reasons for arriving in Hertfordshire were more than merely extending an olive branch to your excellent father. I have been advised by my noble patroness, the Lady Catherine de Burgh, that I should marry. I also believe it to be my duty as a parson to instruct my flock by example. I had resolved to marry among your father’s daughters so as to lessen the injustice of having an estate entailed away from the fairer sex. Lady Catherine told me to find “a useful, active sort of woman” and you are the most sensible of your sisters. Now that you have become aware of my reasons for marrying, I must only assure you of the depth and passion of my affection for you. It was nearly as soon as I had entered the house that I had singled you out as my future companion. I believe we are to be happy together considering our temperaments –”

Mary could wait no longer, “Yes! Yes, Mr Collins I will marry you.” She wanted to embrace him or perhaps kiss him but was unsure of how to proceed. She was relieved to be marrying more than anything else. She would have a comfortable home and would be able to spread the word of her Lord. Mr Collins had been at a loss for words for once that he had been interrupted by her agreement. Quickly regaining his senses, he leaned in slowly and left a wet kiss on her cheek. 

“We must seek Mr Bennet immediately, oh Mary!”

Unfortunately, it was during this celebration that Mr Darcy arrived on horseback with Elizabeth. Mary rushed over to them, abandoning Mr Collins.

“Mr Darcy! What’s wrong with Elizabeth?”

“I need you to fetch Mr Bennet. She’s had a shock; she was attacked by Mr Wickham.”

The commotion outside the house had begun to draw a crowd. Mrs Bennet arrived fussing loudly and calling for Hill. She stopped at the sight of Elizabeth tenderly being carried by Mr Darcy. Her ripped dress did not escape the woman’s eye and as Mary ran to get her father and Jane, her mother advanced on Mr Darcy.

“What have you done to her? What have you done to my Elizabeth?” she shrieked at Mr Darcy as he took her into the parlour. Mr Collins was unhelpfully mute, simply following the group indoors. When he laid Elizabeth down, he kissed her on the head and squeezed her hand.

“Lizzie, darling? We are at Longbourne. Sit up, I will fetch something for you to drink,” he said. He turned and found Hill had already brought some water, a cup of mulled wine and a vial of Mrs Bennet’s smelling salts. He smiled at her and administered them to her, under the watchful eyes of the entire Bennet family. Mrs Bennet was being held by Mr Bennet, who simply awaited an explanation from the young man before them.

Once Elizabeth drank something, he sat in the chair next to her, grimacing as he faced her family.

“Oh, we are all ruined, poor Lizzie!” Mrs Bennet said, breaking the silence. Jane slipped past her mother to sit by Elizabeth. Mr Bennet guided his wofe to a chair before sitting in his own chair as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

“Bring us some tea, please Hill.” He turned to Mr Darcy, affixing him with a mild look. “Now Mr Darcy, please regale us with the tale of what happened here.”

“Papa, it was my fault. I was waiting for Fitzwilliam in the forest.” Elizabeth hung her head in shame, cheeks red.

“Cousin Elizabeth! That kind of behaviour –”

“Yes, yes,” snapped Mr Bennet, to prevent a sermon from Mr Collins. Mrs Bennet shot her husband a smug look. “I will assume you were awaiting him merely to talk.”

Mr Darcy gulped.

“Yes, he had promised last night to relate to me the history between him and Wickham, but Fitzwilliam had not wanted to cause a scene. We agreed to meet as we both enjoy early morning exercise –” the couple blushed as they recalled their double entendre, Mr Bennet raised his brow, unamused – “and as I awaited him in our usual, our agreed upon spot I met Mr Wickham. He asked me to join him on his walk and I agreed. As we spoke, he offered me flirtations and I did not wish to engage them. He suddenly became so angry, telling me how Fitzwilliam had denied him money left to him by the late Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth eyed her fiancé warily as he frowned. “I bent to pick some flowers. I have never heard such an account, so I did not know if it was true. I think I stumbled on some root or loose earth as I was lost in thought and he – he grabbed me by the waist.”

Elizabeth quietened and trembled.

“And?” Mr Bennet said.

She whispered, “He took liberties, his hands and his lips. I could smell wine on his breath. I managed to knee him in his privates and then I ran away. I found Mr Darcy on the road to Netherfield. I do not know what would have happened without you.”

The room was silent in the face of these revelations until Lydia snorted.

“Mr Wickham having his way with you? He is a gentleman and besides why would he want an ugly, freckled girl like you? Lord, I’ve never been so amused.”

“Silence, Lydia,” her father ordered. She rolled her eyes.

“A secret meeting in the woods? They obviously made it up so they would not be caught fooling about.”

“Lydia!” Jane said. Mr Darcy had reached his limit and a cool rage fell over him.

“It is true. I may not have witnessed Elizabeth’s struggle, but she was terrified as she ran onto the road. And I the same thing had occurred not only to my sister but too many women. George Wickham and I grew up together, he was the son of my father’s steward. My father loved him like a son,” he said, sadness colouring his voice, “He paid for his education at Cambridge alongside mine. By then, George had already fallen to the bad, he acted as a libertine. When my father died, he was offered the living of a parson which he refused, instead taking a compensation of £3000 and an inheritance of £1000. I thought I would never see him again.”

Mr Darcy paused here. Elizabeth sent him an anxious smile.

“I know not how he lived but I heard rumours of him, rakish behaviour and compulsive gambling. He returned to me to ask for money, which I denied him. That summer Colonel Fitzwilliam and I sent my sister to Ramsgate – we are her guardians. She was looked after by a Mrs Young, and unknown to us Mr Wickham went thither also. They planned to elope, but my sister confessed to me. I had arrived early to surprise her. I suspect that Wickham was after her inheritance of £30,000. I paid him to keep her reputation intact. She was but 15 at the time.”

The room was stunned once again into silence. So enraptured they had been by Mr Darcy’s story that they had not noticed Lydia slip out of the room. She could not believe the lies that spilt forth about her George and resolved to find him.

“If you do not believe me, I ask that you corroborate my story with the Colonel who knows of all these dealings. My only regret is not making his story known so I could protect more than just my sister.”

“These accusations are heavy indeed,” Mr Bennet mused, “I suggest that all my daughters remain home alone or go out in groups of two or more. Now, Mr Darcy, I must insist that you accompany to Lucas Lodge. I wish to find Mr Wickham and have him brought to justice.”

The younger man merely nodded, following the elder out of the room. Mr Collins followed them also. When there were only ladies in the room, Elizabeth asked to be distracted and Mary willingly supplied that she had been engaged. Celebrations began as Mrs Bennet temporarily forgot that one of her daughters had nearly been ruined. Kitty turned to Lydia to express her surprise and found her to be gone.

“Mama, where is Lydia?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the scandal! 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments (especially the ones with helpful critiques!!!! its improving my writing a lot) and kudos and hits! I've been having a rough time and I really appreciate them <3


	7. TO LONDON

Lydia being missing was suspicious. Normally she never left for Meryton without Kitty and she hardly enjoyed the long, lonesome walks Elizabeth favoured. Thus, to say the house was in confusion was an understatement. Mary and Elizabeth went to search the grounds, Kitty the house and Jane cared for her mother who sent the house into further uproar with a fit. Lydia was not to be found. The women gathered in Mrs Bennet’s room and decided to send a servant to Lucas Lodge with word of Lydia’s disappearance. Where before the girls had felt safe on their own, now it seemed as though an attacker lurked beneath every window. The stories told to them that morning worried even Jane.

Elizabeth felt worst of all. She knew she should leave the house, seek out Lydia and prevent harm befalling her the way it nearly had her but she was afraid. She shivered under two shawls and she began to weep for her sister.

“Oh, my darling Lydia,” wailed Mrs Bennet, clutching her smelling salts and Jane, “Kitty where are you? Come here. Girls let me hold you. Oh, oh! my poor Lydia!”

It was to this screeching that the men returned, and all gathered in the parlour once more. The thought was banished from his mind as he found his fiancé weeping and took her into his arms. She remained tense in his embrace.

“We have grave news, Fanny,” said Mr Bennet, “A young woman was seen fleeing with Mr Wickham.”

“No!”

Mrs Bennet was shocked into silence, her face white as she stared at her husband.

“The description of her matches Lydia’s,” Mr Bennet said, his face seeming to crumple. His lax parenting seemed to have caught up to him and his shoulders sagged under the weight of the consequences.

“They must have fled to London.”

Darcy’s voice was uniquely authoritative amongst those gathered.

“She always wanted to go to London,” Kitty said, carelessly, “Why are you all glaring at me? It is not as though I have done anything wrong. And I don’t see what Lydia has done is very wrong either.”

But Kitty’s opinion on the romantic adventure she was sure Lydia was enjoying fell silent under the pressure from others to which she had always been weak.

“We are to join my Aunt and Uncle in London on Monday, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, drying her eyes with his handkerchief.

“We should leave tonight Mr Bennet if we are to have any hope of catching them. Send an express to your brother to expect you tonight,” said Darcy, “Or you may join me at my townhouse.”

The older man nodded weakly.

“We must take Kitty with us I suppose. Mr Collins leaves this afternoon for Kent.”

“I cannot risk the ire of my noble patroness Lady Catherine de Burgh,” Mr Collins said weakly, “Though I loathe to be apart from you Mary.” He sent her a sickening lovesick smile.

“Mary?” said Mr Bennet, watching his daughter with a cocked eyebrow.

“Mr Bennet, my humblest apologies for not having asked you sooner, but I asked Mary to join me in holy matrimony this morning before the arrival of Elizabeth.”

“Hmm. Well Mary we shall discuss this on Monday, for now I have more pressing concerns. Mr Collins perhaps it would behove you to return to Kent as planned and write to me at my brother’s.”

“Father, the Gardiners cannot keep us all,” added Jane. Though optimistic she knew they had not enough money for any lodgings.”

“You are right my dear, two of us must lodge elsewhere.”

“If I may, Darcy, I can stay at my mother’s, Bingley can have my room or join me and then you can host the elder Miss Bennets. I’m sure Georgiana would be happy for the company.”

“I would be amenable. Mr Collins could also join us although the ire of my Aunt Catherine is to be avoided.”

Mr Collins squeaked as he realised the eminence of his dear cousin’s fiancé, but any adorations would have to wait for Mr Bennet’s anger to cool.

“You expect me to leave my two daughters unchaperoned in your house? Tell me how old is your sister now Mr Darcy? Is she a suitable chaperone?”

“She is now 16.”

“Hardly older than Lydia. You may settle a great sum on my Lizzie, but we all recall how you became engaged.” The couple in question blushed. Mr Bennet’s anger was like embers, though cooler it lasted a long time and he was not inclined to apologise.

“My apologies Mr Bennet, but I have space enough for four guests. I’m sure my cousin included Miss Mary Bennet amongst them –” The Colonel nodded “– However I would not wish you any discomfort. If you allow me I can seek suitable lodgings for the six of you together.”  
Mr Bennet shook his head wearily.

“I will be ready to depart within another hour. I’m sure that by Monday the five of you can decide your sleeping arrangements. Now if you’ll excuse me I must send an express to my brother.”

The old man seemed older as he left the room. His wife, still shocked silent, was attended by her daughters. The three young men made their excuses to leave followed by an anxious Mr Collins, like a puppy in need of instruction. It was decided that he would leave for Kent as planned and Mr Darcy merely hoped his Aunt would not find out or at the very least not descend upon him while in London.

****  
Mr Bennet had joined Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy in their carriage to London. The Colonel, excessively fond of exercise, had opted to ride alongside on a horse. As they sped towards London, the old man had fallen asleep. Darcy wished he could follow suit, but his mind was awake with worry. How on earth would they find Wickham in a city as large as London, if they had even fled there? Doubts began to flood his mind. He turned to watch his friend Charles, to distract himself with some conversation and noted the anxiety in the lines of Charles’ face.

Charles Bingley, although a social, friendly man, tended to shyness when it came to romance. His thoughts, though nervous, were on Jane rather than the missing couple. Within the first few moments of meeting Jane he had wished to propose – though this was not uncommon when he met some new beauty – and he had wished to propose every moment since. His sisters had convinced him it was another flight of fancy, soon he would tire of her. This time he felt none of the signs of his love abating; each time they met he was sure he loved her more than ever. Her quiet smiles and kind nature, so like his own, had enraptured him. And now Charles wished to propose more than ever yet the longer he waited the more he feared that Jane looked at him with disappointment in her eyes.

“Spit it out, Charles. Something is bothering you.”

“It’s Jane,” he said mournfully, “How can I propose to such an angel?”

Darcy waited, sensing his friend had more to say.

“You had it easy, Darcy. No awkwardness, no need to ask her family to leave the two of you alone. And then to ask her! It is a hopeless case.”

Darcy shifted uncomfortably, looking at Mr Bennet, hoping he was still asleep.

“You are mistaken. My interview with Mr Bennet while Elizabeth watched is one experience I never wish to repeat.”

The old man’s mouth twitched into a half smile, noticed only by Darcy.

“It will be easy enough to ask Miss Bennet, they almost expect it, Charles.”

“They do? Even Jane?”

Charles held his hat like a begging puppy. Darcy nodded once, half an eye on Mr Bennet, but it was enough for his friend to explode with happiness.

“Oh, happiest of days! Do you think she would accept me?”

Darcy hesitated, “Elizabeth and I…. speculate.”

A snort came from Mr Bennet but Charles was too ecstatic to notice.

“Excellent! But what should I say?”

Worried that Charles would become depressed anew, Darcy suggested that they practice together so that he might ask for Jane’s hand on Monday. He was rewarded with a smile as strong as the sun’s own glare. Darcy resigned himself to play Jane, mortified that Mr Bennet was secretly laughing at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I've not updated in a while. We had to put our cat down and I've been mad depressed recently.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for all the comments and kudos <3


	8. A TANTATIOUS VISIT

Little progress had been made by the time the ladies arrived on Monday; Lydia was no closer to being recovered. Mr Bennet seemed almost to have given up hope entirely, not helped by his wife’s lamentations as she arrived at Gracechurch street. Still she comforted herself with two daughters to be married and all of them in town to buy dresses, although there was always some lace or a bonnet that she was sure her Lydia would have fallen for and these things she bought for Lydia’s trousseau – for she would have to marry Wickham and what a fine couple they would make! Each day they would set out in Mr Darcy’s carriage for the finest cloths and dressmakers, where Mrs Bennet would exclaim over each bolt and ribbon and despair at her engaged daughters who enjoyed simpler clothes. 

Mary, Elizabeth (and even Jane) were content to stay home on Wednesday and to get to know their hostess better. Mr Bingley had hesitated before leaving but no chance of an audience was to be had without Mrs Bennet’s heavy-handed matchmaking. Instead he left morosely with Mr Darcy for another gruelling search of London. A private audience did take place that day, between Elizabeth and a distinguished relative. Later, she caught her fiancé alone in the library.

“Fitzwilliam, I have met your aunt today, the esteemed Lady Catherine de Burgh. I must say that Mr Collins does not do her mixture of pride and superiority justice. She came to see what ‘hussy’ had ensnared her nephew away from his engagement to her daughter.”

Darcy winced, fidgeting with the papers on his desk.

“I told her that you would not propose to me if that were the case. She left, “most vexed” in search of a Lady Matlock?”

“My other aunt,” he offered. Her nose wrinkled.

“I do not know how many of your aunts I can fend off. It is clear she thinks I am “polluting” Pemberley,” she said, bitterly, “At least she found Mary to be suitable for Mr Collins. Your brother-in-law would be her parson.”

Darcy was struck by something Charles had said many weeks ago, “that he would not care if Jane had aunts and uncles to fill all Cheapside”.

“There was a time when I would have inclined to agree with my aunt. I was excessively proud; I am ashamed to admit it. Now I would not care if all your sisters married parsons.”

“What about Wickhams? You cannot tell me you will be pleased to have him as a brother.”

Elizabeth turned towards the bookshelf hugging herself. An anxious silence filled the room.

“Let us marry tomorrow –”

“You may break our engagement –”

She whirled round to face him.

“You do not wish to marry?”

“I do not wish to cause you grief. Though I am a gentleman’s daughter I know I am not – That is, your family –”

Darcy silenced her with a passionate kiss.

“Oh Lizzie, speak no more of breaking our engagement. I love you, let us elope!”

“Fitzwilliam!” she laughed as he spun her in his arms.

“We will elope. I carry our license with me, we can take Fitz as our witness. We can be married tomorrow. No more interfering aunts.”

“But –”

He stepped away as though he were burned, “I am sorry. I am too hasty; you must think me a rake!”

Tenderly, Elizabeth sought his embrace.

“You are no rake,” she smiled. “But is it wise for us to elope? What of your reputation? What of my wedding dress?”

Darcy stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head.

“We can set a wedding breakfast on our agreed date. I only wish to ease your anxieties, my love.”

“No more aunts.”

“No more aunts,” he agreed.

“What must I do?”

****  
Unfortunately, there were more aunts the following day. Two women dressed in fine silks and the latest fashions entered the parlour to Darcy’s surprise. He and his cousin started nervously, having just returned from the wedding and the deliverance of Elizabeth to her next fitting.

“Mother! I did not know you would be coming here today.”

“Aunt Catherine, Aunt Georgiana, I hope you are well.

“I am well, thank you. Fitzwilliam, Richard, how are you this morning?”

“Enough niceties, Georgiana,” snapped Lady Catherine, “Your nephew is planning to marry some country nobody.”

Lady Georgiana Matlock placed her hand on her sister’s arm, though she knew it was a fruitless gesture.

“Catherine sit down.” She turned to the young men as though they had been caught scrumping. “Now boys, is this true?”

“No,” Darcy replied.

“So, you have broken it off with your little mistress? Ha! I knew you would not marry her after the scandalous way you were engaged. Mr Collins related the entire affair to me. You and Anne will make a fine pair.”

“I said I was not engaged to her. We married this morning.”

Catherine whitened. Lady Matlock smiled.

“Tell me Fitzwilliam, do you love her?”

“Yes.”

She studied his face; she had promised his mother to make sure he married for love as she had. 

“Very well, it seems the matter has been resolved Cathy. Now we must depart before we are late to the Johnsons. Richard, I expect you to dine with me tonite.” She raised a brow. “After all I am your mother and you are staying in my house. And Fitzwilliam I expect to meet the new Mrs Darcy. It would behoove you to throw a dinner party, say, tomorrow evening. Send my love to Georgiana. Come along Catherine I do not intend to be late.”

The ladies left as fast as they had bustled in, in a swish of silk skirts, though now it was Lady Matlock hurrying Lady Catherine.

“A dinner party.”

Richard slapped him on the back. “I suppose you ought to, old chap.”

Darcy groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry forr the long wait! Things have been mixed but we are nearing the end :)
> 
> The two aunts reminded me very much of "House of Many Ways" by Diane Wynne Jones, and Lady Matlock especially reminds me of Aunt Sempronia.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments <3


	9. DINING IN

The evening of the dinner party came faster than Darcy could believe. The cook had been in a hurry to get enough meat and ice to serve the two Ladies in attendance and wishing her master threw parties more often such that she might be better prepared. As she prepared pottage and calf’s head and jugged hare she worried that her master’s tastes for simple country food would shew her up; she was sure that any noble lady would have a good French cook in her employ to create some spectacle at the dinner table. At least the other guests came from the country including Mr Darcy’s fiancée, they would enjoy her food.

Darcy readjusted his cravat. His own aunts and uncle would be joining the Bennets, the Gardiners and the guests of his own home. He fervently hoped that Aunt Catherine would not make a scene before so many people and that Mrs Bennet would be too stunned and happy to make one of her own. As his guests arrived, he felt as though he were being strangled but the light touch of his wife comforted him as he escorted her through to sit by him.

Near the end of the meal, after the soups and meats and fish and savouries, after the desserts had been brought to the table – tiny cups of steamed custard, meringues, spiced puddings and brightly coloured ices - a soft tinkle sounded throughout the room bringing everyone’s attention to Mr Darcy at the head of the table. How he loathed public speaking.

“I wish to make an announcement. Yesterday morning, I was married. I would like to introduce Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.”

He helped her stand and Elizabeth pinked in the face of her entire family’s shocked faces and Mr Bingley’s happy applause. Lady Catherine was none too pleased but before she could speak everyone seemed to speak at once except for Mr Bennet who merely raised an eyebrow.

“Oh! Oh! My dear Lizzie! What a good joke to never say a word,” cried Mrs Bennet, her voice louder than everyone else’s.

“How terribly romantic,” remarked both Lady Matlock, with a dry, clever expression, and Mrs Gardiner, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand.

“Married?” said Jane as Mary recited some passage about immorality though she was secretly pleased and found it just as romantic as Kitty, who was sighing and lamenting that she wished for such romance. Lady Catherine seemed to recover her senses.

“Enough!” commanded Lady Catherine, “This nonsense has gone on long enough! You are engaged to Anne and that is final.”

“Catherine –” Lady Matlock began in a bored tone, but she was interrupted by her husband.

“Cathy, you cannot force them to marry. You and Anne were girls when you agreed to marry your children. Fitzwilliam can choose for himself and so could your daughter if you did not keep her locked up. In fact, spending some time here in London with Georgiana might do her some good. I will be visiting her after this. Now, I do not wish to hear another word from you on the subject. Congratulations, Fitzwilliam.”

The noble lady was speechless for the second time. Her brother simply returned to his ices. The rest of the party were quite discomfited, aside Lady Matlock who attacked her own ice with a secret glee unnoticed by all bar her husband.

Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed awkwardly, “Shall we have a toast? To Mr and Mrs Darcy!”

Dinner had been a rather muted affair after that, everyone flummoxed but especially the Bennet family. Where was Elizabeth to spend the night? Begrudgingly, after much insistence by Mrs Bennet, Mr Bennet gave the newlyweds leave to act as they saw fit; they were already married. Elizabeth was to move into the mistress’ bedroom.

As she sat in the parlour with the ladies, her mother pulled her aside to give her some instruction on what might be expected of her. Unfortunately, Mrs Bennet was not prone to speaking of these matters in plain English and she left Elizabeth rather more confused and frightened than before. Then the men entered, rather quickly – each too sheepish to stay under Mr Bennet’s disapproving gaze and Lord Matlock’s amusement – and Elizabeth lost her chance to ask what her mother had meant by “the woodpecker makes its nest”. Alarmed, the evening passed quicker than before, each person desirous to leave the newlyweds alone so that all she got was a wink from her mother and a squeeze from her sister.

Elizabeth was glad to enter her new room to find that some of her trousseau had already been delivered; Madame Seamstress had been taken by the romantic nature of the whole thing and sent some night clothes ahead of schedule. She felt a little more confident in the white lace chemise she favourited at the store and was glad to have confided in the woman. After changing she sat at her dresser intent on removing the pins from her hair. Instead, as she stared at the door connecting her room with his, she dabbed a little perfume on her neck.

A soft knock. Disappointingly, it was the wrong door; Georgiana’s maid, Lucille, was offering the new Mrs Darcy help with her hair. Grateful, the work was soon begun. Elizabeth considered that she might be able to afford her own maid and determined to ask Lucille about any she might know of in the morning. Soon, her tresses flowed over her shoulder and the maid left as quietly as she had come.

Elizabeth sat a while longer, nervously examining herself but no knock was forthcoming from the connecting door. She shook away the thoughts that he no longer found her attractive after they shared so many passionate kisses.

At length she became irritated and went to knock herself. Opening the door she found her husband in his undershirt about to knock.

“Were you going to come in? Or do you prefer to sleep at the door?” she smiled.

“I did not wish to impose,” Darcy said sheepishly. Shakily, his hand reached to caress her hair, and his thumb brushed down her neck.

“You could never impose, husband.”

The tension left his body. He brought her hand to his lips to kiss it, trailing kisses up her wrist to her neck.

“Would you join me for bed, Mrs Darcy?” His breath was warm on her neck

She laughed as he nibbled at her ear.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the patience, one chapter left!
> 
> apparently i have a very broad definition of saturdays ranging from the prequel (friday) to monday (staurday part 3 the resaturdaying) and on occasion tuesday (saturday: the extra)
> 
> thanks for all your kind comments and words <3 not to mention hits and kudos   
> hope you enjoy xxx


	10. SNIPPETS

“Elizabeth, Miss Bennets, I am afraid I have bad news.”

“Fitzwilliam?”

He looked at the floor. Mr Bennet were sure to be home by now breaking the news to Mrs Bennet, Mrs Gardiner and Kitty.

“Lydia is still with Mr Wickham.”

“They are married!” Jane said, optimistic as ever.

“They are not married. They have fled to France.”

Gasps sounded throughout the room.

“No, she cannot have,” said Jane, sitting dejectedly.

Mary merely sighed, “Lydia was too much indulged by mother. It is no wonder she has little sense.”

“Thoughtless girl. Wickham is sure to leave her. Darling, if you can – if you wish to – send out some message that she is welcome her?”

“Of course, Elizabeth.”

“We must go to Gracechurch Street. Poor mother!”

“Of course, Jane,” said Elizabeth.

“She will miss Lydia terribly.”

“We must take this as a lesson not to be too careful with our virtues and pour into each other bosoms sisterly love.”

Elizabeth sighed. Mary would always recite bible passages in difficult times; privately, Elizabeth thought they were unhelpful, and she was glad to be married. Still she prepared herself to care for her mother who she was sure had her uncle’s house in high dudgeon.

************  
“I wrote to that parson of Catherine’s.”

“Mr Collins?”

Mr and Mrs Darcy sipped their tea politely. Lady Matlock nodded.

“Cathy was threatening to remove him if he went through with his engagement, so I offered him a small parsonage in York near one of the smaller Matlock estates. We never use it, my husband hates the moors you see, but you are welcome to go whenever.”

“That will do well for them. Mary is quite besotted with Mr Collins.”

“Her seriousness does seem to balance out his general demeanour. I hope that they enjoy it there. Perhaps the other estates will be filled soon.” Lady Matlock cast her sharp eyes on her son. “Richard, I do not understand why you insist on taking so long to marry. Georgiana take note not to take too long. Do not elope either,” Lady Matlock said sternly, glaring at her, “The society columns are full of the 'romantic' elopement of your brother's. This morning I visited the Johnsons and their daughters were all aswoon. I cannot go anywhere without being pressed for details on Mr and Mrs Darcy. Marriage is much more than love, you know.”

“I had thought both your and uncle’s families disappointed when you married, Aunt.”

Lady Matlock hid her amusement. Georgiana was right, they had caused quite the scandal.

“Mrs Darcy’s wit certainly emboldens you child.”

The two younger ladies exchanged a look of innocence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the final snippets. I may take a hiatus from updating xxx  
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments


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